James Lupin
by EtichaErix
Summary: James Lupin, son to Remus Lupin, is in his sixth year at Hogwarts, when Dumbledore wants to see him at his office. It's something about his dad... R & R, please!


It all started a cold morning in January, when Professor Dumbledore, the Head Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, called for me during a lesson in Transfiguration. Poor Professor McGonagall, she was in the middle of a very interesting lesson and almost jumped out of her robe when the door to our classroom opened and the Head Boy of Gryffindor looked in.

"Sorry to disturb, Professor, but the Head Master needs to speak with James Lupin."

"Oh, all right", she said, picking up her pointed hat that had fallen off when the door had opened. "Off you go, then, Lupin – and don't be late for next lesson. Snape won't be happy."

I got to my feet, feeling both happy (I _had_ after all been allowed to skip the remaining part of the lesson) and worried. What on earth could Dumbledore want to say to me, now? The Head Boy walked with me to Dumbledore's office; there he knocked on the door and waited for the Head Master's reply. He let me in, and I came into Dumbledore's office.

"James Lupin", a soft voice said, but I couldn't see the owner of it. "I've asked you to come; fore I have very important news for you." The chair behind the great oak desk turned around and there he was. He looked at me over his glasses, the blue eyes shone with a mystic lustre.

"Yes, Professor?" I asked, because I had heard of these talks. Students at the school had been called to the Head Master and had walked away with awful news. I began to worry greatly that my father was ill or something even worse. Dumbledore stared at me for a second, and then said:

"You look almost exactly like your father, James."

"Some people say I do, Professor", I replied.

As a matter of fact, I did look like my father – except that he often looked ill and exhausted, which was a result of him transforming into a werewolf every month. (Here you might be a bit shocked, but _yes_, I knew that my father was a werewolf, but he was never a danger to me. He simply locked himself into his bedroom, where the door was stronger than the others, and stayed in there until it all was over. Me myself, I'm not a werewolf. When my father married Nymphadora Tonks - who was a Metamorphmagus by the way - they got me. And no, I'm not a Metamorphmagus. Or yet, I don't think I am. Have never actually tried to change myself, so I can't tell you. Sorry.)

We had the same light brown hair, we were both tall – I looked like I had grown too much over a summer. My eyes were dark and twinkling (at least that's what the girls says) and my complexion pale. My name, James Donaghan Lupin, was a mix of three different names - as you can see. James from my father's old friend, James Potter, father to the famous Harry Potter, who's also a friend of my father. Donaghan from Donaghan Tremlett, the bass player in the wizarding band The Weird Sisters. And Lupin, my last name, from my father. Remus John Lupin. My mother, who's dead, she died in an attack of Dementors a few years ago, took the name Lupin-Tonks, since she didn't want to let go of her old name – her past, as she put it. This January, I was sixteen years old. I was in my sixth year on Hogwarts, being happy and wild: just a few days ago, I'd kissed one of the girls in Gryffindor – a short, cute brown-haired girl with grey eyes and a beautiful voice. She was lovely, and I really liked her. I had been trying to talk to her for months, and now I had. Her name was Leigh McKinnon, and she had the absolute cutest Scottish accent ever. But all that seemed irrelevant at the moment.

"Sir…" I began, feeling a bit nervous and ill, "why did you ask to see me? Has it to do with my Dad?" Dumbledore looked a bit taken back at my question, but then he sighed very deeply and leaned back in his armchair.

"Yes, James, it has to do with your father." I stood still, my hands clenched on my back. A sudden cold came over me, I froze, and if I hadn't been suspecting what Dumbledore was going to tell me, I would have fainted when he did tell me.

When Albus Dumbledore spoke those horrible words, I saw to my inner eye how my whole world was turned upside down. _Why? _I thought. _Why Dad?_

I kept the same vacant look on my face; my eyes were clear and showed no signs of sorrow or despair. My heart cried, my soul writhed with pain. _Why?_ I scream inside my head. _How?_

Dumbledore turned in his chair. "I'm so sorry, James", he said finally. "I know how close you and your father were, especially since Nymphadora died." I stood tall, looking calmly at him.

"How?"

"Are you sure…" Dumbledore started. I didn't move a muscle. I was ready. I needed to hear this.

"How?" I repeated. Dumbledore got to his feet. He was an old man, older than anyone else I knew, but yet he radiated strength and reliability.

"The Dementors came to your house when it was full moon." I gasped. "Not even as a werewolf could he fight them off."

_But Dad was a great wizard, stronger than the most of them… he has fought against you-know-who…my God, Dad, how could you die?_

Dumbledore put a hand on my shoulder. "I am here for you, James. I understand if you want to go home for a while." I looked at him.

"And how will that work, Professor? My parents are dead, and thanks to You-know-who have I no relatives."

Dumbledore stared at me for a second. Then he nodded. "You're right", he said. "I will have to see what I can do about it." Suddenly I felt scared, what if I had to leave Hogwarts?

"Can I stay at Hogwarts these two years?" I asked. Albus Dumbledore smiled hastily at me.

"Of course are you allowed to stay here and finish your education, but during the summer? Where will you be?" I looked at him sternly.

"I don't know, Professor." A clock started to sound somewhere in the room, and Fawkes, the phoenix, moved around on his perch. I felt ill, like my whole world was spinning around faster and faster, threatening to throw me off.

I turned around, facing the door. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I have a lesson to go too. Professor Snape wouldn't like me to be late." I heard Dumbledore sit down in his chair again.

"No, you're right. Off you go then." And when I had reached the door, he spoke again.

"Are you sure that you will be all right, James?"

I didn't turn to look at him. "Yes", I answered. And then I opened the door and walked out.

I didn't go to Snape's lesson after all. I walked down to the Whomping Willow, and sat down far away from its branches. I sat there for an hour, just looking at it. It had been planted there because of my father – now, for no reason, it remained there. Suddenly, anger flushed me.

I roared out my sorrow, fury and angst. Dad was dead… now I wanted revenge.


End file.
